


Atlas

by MortimerBadger



Category: The Secret Saturdays
Genre: A certain loyal manservant nearly dies and reflects on his life as he drifts between life and death, Gen, Post-Finale, Yeah this was one of my secret projects for a while
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 02:01:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29252634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MortimerBadger/pseuds/MortimerBadger
Summary: It is said that Atlas holds the world on his shoulders.He must never falter on his task.He cannot ever.For it would bring nothing but ruin.
Kudos: 6





	Atlas

**Author's Note:**

> An Exploration of my FAVORITE Secret Saturdays character: Munya
> 
> of whom deserves a lot more credit than he gets for, oh I don't know, literally being the only guy in the whole show Argost respects

Paris in chaos. What a... _poetic_ sight.

On any other day, Munya would make note to himself to try the local cuisine- see just why his employer makes such a fuss over it’s authenticity- maybe take a brief reprieve to himself to enjoy the architecture or the bloody history of revolutions and fiction he _only_ can enjoy in those few and far between and shortest of times. Perhaps someone will write of this event as Victor Hugo had done so long ago.

Today is not a day of pleasantries however, as Munya must remind himself as he crosses the threshold of the _Arc de Triomphe de l'Étoile_ with an army of cryptids at his beck and call. Today, the world is being given new order: the order of Vincent Vladislav Argost- and Munya leads the attack here in Argost’s most adored France. _Vltava River Sprites_ , an _Allegewi_ , these were but a _few_ of the Cryptids at the command of the Right Hand of Argost. All under the siren call of Anti-Kur, they were a perfect fighting force to formulate an equally poetic bloodbath, enough to make Munya’s veins faintly buzz with adrenaline at the thought.

There was a sick satisfaction in the destruction. To finally stop hiding beneath his human self and strike back at the race that betrayed him. Were it Argost’s order, Munya would not have hesitated to unleash the true beast within. But… no. That was not his orders. Terrorize, yes. Traumatize, even. But not kill. Not _yet._ Perhaps later. He chuckled. Yes. Perhaps later, should anyone dare try and rise up against the new world order.

Munya tore at building and structures, letting out his tension on harmless architecture that crumbled like sand when faced against his might and webbing. Argost would forgive a bit of excess wanton destruction if it meant things continued as planned. A bridge rail here, a wall there, it could all be restored once the dust settled. He had just passed a cafe he briefly recalled enjoying, webbing taking hold of a nearby lamppost. It would look better in- _a flash of silver caught him off guard_.

Of course the boy would fight back, but sending T _sul’Kalu_ himself after Munya? The sight of the great hunter surrounded by _Bunyip_ _s_ and more of the boy’s army was enough to catch the Right Hand of Argost off guard. It was, naturally, only for a moment but long enough for the silent stalker to land a decent hit. Munya reeled back, covering his head defensively as he sought to regain control of the situation.

They _could not_ lose. Not when the world was so close to being in their grasp. If Munya must face Tsul’Kalu alone to bide time, so be it. Munya wiped the grit off his mouth from taking a hand axe to the face as Tsul’Kalu stood ready for a showdown.

In the blink of an eye the two warriors were at each other’s throats. Fist clashed with claw, axe with fang, webbing with wit, but they were too easily matched. Any strike would be quickly countered directly after. But alas, a particularly sharp strike to his jaw sent the Papuan Giant Spider infused man drawing back in a daze and toppling to the floor- and before he could even think to lay some form of trap and finish the fight, Munya would find his opponent racing off with a swarm of Bunyips after the River Sprites.

Munya rose to his feet, rubbing his head as he took a pause from the onslaught to find better cover and reassess the situation. On the surface, everything was going to plan... somewhat. But Munya knew better. Something wasn’t right. He could feel it now as he overlooked the scene. The two opposing forces of Kur clashed, at a standstill just as Munya had been against Tsul’Kalu. Munya scoffed and held onto his arm- only just now noticing a dull pain.

_Wait. Tsul’Kalu hadn’t landed a single strike on this arm._

Munya suddenly tensed as a gunshot of agony and fury struck him to the core. He had only felt this pain once before- as the Boy and his Master fought for control of Munya’s mind only for that power to be forcibly stripped by Tsul’Kalu.

There was that _wrong_ feeling again. It gnawed at his very being now. For the briefest moment Munya spotted it. The green and orange fires flickering in and out of both forces eyes. _It couldn’t be._

Munya shook his head and grabbed the toppled car he had been using as cover, flinging it over his head at the swarm of Bunyips that had spotted his resting place. A Pity really. He so briefly remembered the time he once tended to some of these vermin before they were returned to Australia, but punishments must be given for _disloyalty_. At least now he had a moment to think.

Munya growled and briefly held his head once more, feeling that fading rage pricking at the back of his mind. Argost had vowed to keep out of Munya’s thoughts after the events at Inaccessible Island, but traces of that forced battle between the two Kur spirits still lingered. Something was _wrong_. He couldn’t deny it now. Munya turned from the fray. He _needed_ to find Argost.

But then, just as soon as the rage faded, something much darker slowly arose. It was faint at first, like a planted seed of thought, before it suddenly sprung forth like a thorny vine and choked out any other thoughts Munya may have been having.

 _Destruction. Hate._ _Wrath. Victory._

_Kill_

_Kill_

_**KILL!** _

* * *

Munya believed himself to be a very controlled man, but he had already seen what tapping into the deeply buried rage inside him could do when he _last_ gave in to Anti-Kur’s demands. Had it been a forced order? No. Argost had kept his word on that. Was it an order Munya still found himself unable to resist? Without a doubt.

And as his mind had gone to war with itself, loyalty against obedience against defiance, two things remained true:

He had been given a _new_ order, and who was he to defy an order he found appealing from the beginning even though it had never been given?

But he also knew for certain that Argost would not have come to this decision on his own. As bloodthirsty as Munya knew the yeti in disguise to be, as long as he’d known Argost he knew Argost wanted humanity under his heel, not _extinct._

This was the sobering thought that had struck Munya to the core and stopped his rampage in his tracks. As he stood on the steps of the _Louvre,_ practically at the base of the glass pyramid, Munya’s rage had faded.

And all at once reality caught back up to him as the Bunyips overtook the Allegewi. Neither Kur nor Anti-Kur had power here. Munya’s head wildly turned as the giant was forced to the ground.

Before he had time to process what this all meant, Tsul’Kalu had tackled him.

Bunyip cheers buzzed into white noise as Munya felt the hard stone crack his back and adrenaline begin to surge through his entire being. Munya tossed the great hunter off him and quickly jumped back to his feet. For the first time in years, with cryptids on all sides and none of them his allies, Munya found himself on he defense against a warrior of a cryptid who never lost track of his prey.

The axe swung wildly as Tsul’Kalu advanced and Munya drew back. Tsul’Kalu would not miss long, as eventually the sharpened metal made it’s mark- leaving a painful gash across Munya’s chest. Munya howled his pain, and lunged forward. The next axe swing was dodged with a well timed duck in the middle of his own charge, and then Munya suddenly found himself tackling Tsul’Kalu. The pair rolled across the ground before Munya muscled his way on top to pin the beast. Unfortunately just as he’d drawn back a fist to land a strong hit, it would be disrupted by one of the many Bunyips in attendance leaping and striking Munya’s face with a kick.

It had done hardly any damage, but had given his opponent the time they needed to roll out from under Munya and deliver a heavy swing of the axe through the air. Munya attempted to dodge but would find his timing to be too late. A sharp pain shot up one of his many legs that sprouted from his bestial form’s back, and he rolled escape further attack. Munya shuddered, feeling entirely wrong. He looked up back to where he had laid a moment ago, and stared in horror as he realized the end piece of his injured leg had been sliced off and was twitching futilely on the ground.

Munya roared and again tried to overpower the cryptid, only for them to catch his fists and force the pair in a standoff of strength. Munya’s arms shook and throbbed from the overexertion, but all the same this did give him a moment to think. Where did it all go wrong? Something had changed Argost’s plans, but what?

It was then that Tsul’Kalu broke the lock and tried to kick Munya in the chest directly against his injury. The Right Hand of Argost quickly jumped back to avoid the hit, but realized too late it had been a diversion. An Axe whizzed towards him, and it was _only_ through quick thinking that Munya had dodged and avoided a grisly death. He quickly turned back to look at Tsul’Kalu, only to find the cryptid directly in front of him with a second axe raised high. Munya dodged again, this time a turn out of the down falling way of the axe, only for Tsul’Kalu to continue his pursuit with a fist. It struck Munya in his right cheek and jaw, force hitting so near that sensitive red eye of his causing Munya to be momentarily dazed and punching in retaliation at nothing but the air. Claws then slashed against the left side of his face.

Munya retreated, feeling the stone railing of a bridge at his back. He was exhausted. He was _losing_ this fight. … No. This fight was _lost._

Munya watched in dulled silence, breathing heavily, as Tsul’Kalu advanced slowly toward him while retrieving the previously thrown axe from the ground. The two stared each other down, not a single word spoken between them and yet understood entirely as Tsul’Kalu raised his axe, and Munya pushed slowly away from the bridge rail and stood proud. Munya would not be going down without a _finished_ fight.

Even as the cheering Bunyips advanced, practically nipping at the heels of Tsul’Kalu, neither hunter nor prey moved an inch- waiting to see who would strike first in this final encounter.

It would be Munya, shooting webbing at one of Tsul’Kalu’s hands. The hunter, however, would take a note from Munya and dodge. His axe cut through the webbing with no effort, and Munya would find himself again fighting for his life. This would, unfortunately, prove as futile as the leg lost on this very bridge. Tsul’Kalu’s axe met it’s mark deep into Munya’s shoulder. As he let out one bloody and exhausted hiss, Munya would feel himself step back again, forgetting about the bridge rail and the waters below.

Tsul’Kalu reached out for his Axe in hopes to stop the warrior from toppling over the edge. They would be too late. Munya crashed into the frigid waters like a stone. He felt a sharp pain strike him in the back of the head and injured shoulder, and as his vision faded the last thing he saw was the water’s surface break as the hunter dove in after his weapon.

Then it was nothing but dark.

* * *

Tsul’Kalu watched the axe dislodge from Munya's wound as he made impact with the boulders hidden beneath the calm waters of the seine. He swam diligently for the sinking blade to catch it before the river silt claimed it as its own, and only once the axe was reclaimed did he look up to see the fate of Munya. The Spider Beast of a man was very much unconscious, drifting slowly away, more than likely to his death either by blood loss or drowning. The hunter nodded his head, satisfied with this justice fulfilled, and returned to the surface- for both air and for his allies to help pull him from the waters.

No man would survive with the damage endured.

Tsul’Kalu was sure of it.

But Munya was no mere man.


End file.
